


Delivered

by recension



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Hate Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Revenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-26
Updated: 2012-08-26
Packaged: 2017-11-12 21:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/recension/pseuds/recension
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Lucius Malfoy’s war trial turns towards leniency, Ginny Weasley cannot deny her own thirst for vengeance. She makes the decision to make Draco Malfoy pay for his father’s sins in humilation, but underestimates the will of her prey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivered

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to my wonderful, amazing, indispensable betas Kitty & J.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I own none of these characters nor this world, JKR is a goddess, these toys are hers I'm just playing with them and I’m making no money doing it.

The moment Draco Malfoy became a man was without fanfare. There was no bridal bed, no careful kisses, no hesitation or modesty.

Bound to an enemy's bed, ridden against his will as sweat and oil poured from his opening skin, he burned up from the inside and was reborn. Crying and sobbing in wordless open-mouthed tones, begging for _yes, please,_ and for _please, stop_ , the end to his pain became his first glimpse of pleasure. He surrendered the moment his mind went blissfully blank as his fate was chosen for him, just as it had been in the war

 

He'd never seen such anger in a woman's eyes. He had seen madness in Aunt Bellatrix's, and even cruelty in his mother's at times, but never such sharp, blinding fury. It made his stomach turn with unconscious, unfounded guilt, and he found himself lowering his gaze from her's in something resembling shame.

Ginny Weasley's eyes dug into his very being from across the courtroom. 

 

"Miss Weasley," the Senior Undersecretary cleared his throat and spoke, leaning up in his chair as he tried to calm the court's chatter. He was failing miserably. Ginny's face had canted forward, out of Draco's view, covered in a curtain of copper hair. He imagined she was blushing, ashamed of her words, but he suspected her cheeks were flaming with a seething fury. "Would you repeat yourself for the court?"

Ginny tilted her head back again and sat up straighter, holding her gaze directly into the eyes of the man who had addressed her.

"I know for a fact that Lucius Malfoy is the one who gave me Tom Riddle's diary, an object now known to have been one of Lord Voldemort's horcruxes. Mister Malfoy admitted the ‘gift’ himself to Harry Potter." Mentioning Harry’s name was no accident, Draco knew. It was immediate credibility to any argument during these trials.

"Yes, of course. I mean... would you repeat the second part of your testimony," the man clarified.

Draco could swear he could see a glint of pleasure in her eyes. What a predatory animal she was. She knew exactly the phrase he'd wanted her to repeat, she was only toying with him—with the whole court, really. "I believe I said 'Lucius Malfoy delivered me, at the age of eleven, for rape.'"

Rape. 

It was the word that had sent the circular room of the Wizengamot into chatter. The clear manner with which she'd said it set the hair of Draco's forearms on end. His mother's hand, clad in kidskin-gloves, tightened it's grip on his, strangling his fingers.

The Weasley Girl was daring the court to ask her to clarify: rape of the mind, or the body? Her eyes were bright, her jaw set. _Ask me_ , she dared them silently. _Ask me._ Draco knew no one would. Which was more sacred, in the end? The mind or the body? For a wizard the realms were impossible to compare.

The Senior Undersecretary thanked her for her testimony and dismissed her from the witness' chair. She rose, gave a half-nod-half-curtsey, straight-backed with just a dip at the knee and chin before stepping from the platform. She slipped through the exit of the circular room and faded into the blackness of the corridor, the clicks of her low heels receding in the darkness long after she was gone from sight.

 

He'd never seen anyone less deserving of pain but cursed with it in such volume.

His own pain was because of his wickedness, because of the choices his family had made. Backwards ideology and indoctrination. Fear. He deserved his pain. Even this, even this punishment he deserved.

Her pain was through no fault of her own. Like him, something had happened that had transformed her. Darkness had infected her soul, but instead of drowning in it she had chosen to fight the current and clung to big ideas of Justice and Righteousness. But even in this time after the war, even with different rules, Draco knew the greater pillars of Power and Money and Influence would prevail.

 

The first frost of 1998 seemed to come early. Early November met Ottery St. Catchpole with a dusting of snow and a cheerful mood. Heaviness, humidity, and grief had hung about the country for much of the autumn. As Christmas began its approach, it seemed everyone she knew was looking forward to the lightness of the season. But all Ginny could feel was the chill of early winter setting into her bones and the deep-seated satisfaction that the weather would finally match her mood.

It was a dreary night, full of frozen air and a deep cobalt sky that was absent of stars. She stayed up nursing a bottle of whiskey in the childhood bedroom she'd rapidly outgrown. Downstairs the voices of her family—natural and adopted members—drifted through holes in the floors and cracks in the walls, but they seemed so far away. 

At school, with Hogwarts still in repair and most of her mates gone, Ginny could pretend she wasn't the only one still not _over it_. Being stuck at the Burrow made this far more challenging of a task. The alcohol made her numb enough to not care how withdrawn she had become, or how hollow she felt. The last fringes of her anger had begun to freeze in her veins since she'd returned home to testify at the trial, an icy acceptance of the fact that she would never fully get her vengeance, could never truly tell her story. Even after her testimony there seemed to be little indication that Lucius would face anything as serious as The Kiss.

That didn't sit well with her.

 

The girl was beautiful.

She was all buxom-body and soft ivory skin, blonde hair that fell to her mid-back in soft curls, draped in a sparkling blue cloth one square inch safe of an indecency charge. She had a large, white smile and pouty lips stained pink from lipstick and wine. She was exactly the kind of girl Draco found attractive, not in the long term—no girl in the long term—but she was the kind of girl whose page he would earmark in a lad's mag for future reference.

She had a high-pitched breathy voice and giggled at everything he said, though he chalked that up to her profession and not anything resembling real interest. Still, it was nice to have the company of a woman, even if he was paying for it. Strippers were cheaper than escorts for this, he'd learned, and muggle ones never recognized him from the papers.

The club was loud, distracting, the speakers turned up two levels past comfortable, but it's not as though most men came to that sort of club to talk. Bambi, Brandy, Bimbo, or whatever her name was, was settled in his lap, her hands sandwiching one of his own as she massaged his knuckles.

"Are you sure you don't want a dance?" she asked, over-enunciating to be heard over the music. Draco wanted to frown. He did want a dance, but he didn't see much use in it. It had been two years since he'd taken the Dark Mark and nearly just as long since he'd had an erection he could sustain long enough to orgasm. He liked coming to the club to satisfy his need for company more than the need for having something to look at, or even a tease of something he could never have. 

The first few times he visited the club, the dances had left him with a still-soft lap and a disappointed girl. On more than one occasion he had explained plainly that _'nothing has been the same since the war'_ and accepted a free drink for his service in something called the Gulf War. Letting a muggle think he had fought for Queen and Country was easier than explaining the alternative.

He nodded his answer to the blonde.

The girl abandoned his hand to run her fingers through his hair. He leaned into the touch, childlike, shutting his eyes briefly at the sensation. Unwillingly, he caught a flash of memory: Pansy Parkinson's neatly polished nails scraping along his scalp as they clung to one another in fifth year, all kisses and tongues and body heat. It was only two years ago but it felt like it had happened to another person in another life. He was struck with regret that he had never acted then, that he had prioritized making his father proud over making himself happy. It was the greatest regret of his life.

 

The morning of his father's verdict, Draco felt at odds with himself. He had been so on edge that he had to have an elf fasten his cufflinks, straighten his clothing, and usher him out the door to make sure he wasn't tardy. Draco wasn't sure he wanted to show up at all, but Mother had insisted on providing a 'united front'.

 _'That's what got us in this mess in the first place,'_ he kept thinking, but dared not say.

Draco's breath caught in his throat as the Wizengamot returned to their seats. It had been a long week of endless hearings but now the tension was reaching an end. His father had not been present except for his brief testimony on Tuesday afternoon. The rest of the week had been a blur of words spoken against his family. Pleas for clemency were not for the man, but for the precedent that could be set. In the end, the Malfoy Family only hoped to escape alive. Lucius had told him in the privacy of their pre-arranged visits that he only feared The Kiss. Draco held his mother's hand tightly, as he did every moment of the trial, and hoped for anything less.

"The Wizengamot would like have our vote at this time," the Minister spoke, gripping at the edge of his podium. Shaklebolt was stately, upstanding, but Draco still didn't trust him. Any Auror during the war was out for blood as far as he was concerned.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" Reluctant hands rose, weary but there. Draco tried to count them quickly, not sure there were more than half.

"Those in favor of conviction?" 

Hands filled the air and Narcissa's grip tightened again.

"Very well," Shakelbolt cleared his throat. "As the Wizengamot is firmly undecided on the matter, we shall retire to chambers and discuss a partial conviction. Court to reconvene at one o'clock."

Draco could hear his mother holding her breath, but it seemed this was the best sign they could have hoped for. A partial conviction had the hopes of Azkaban for decades, not until the end of life, or even some sort of house-bound imprisonment.

He was relieved to find himself pleased, genuinely, and let the consulting barrister who had contributed to the case take charge of his mother's attentions as he himself headed to draft the family's official statement for the papers. No doubt the inquiries and requests for interviews would be coming in at any moment. He tucked up his collar and skirted past the popping flashbulbs as he excused himself from the court chamber. He took long, springy strides to the elevator, quickly shut the gate behind him, and was soon tugged off towards the lobby with great speed.

 

 _’It was nice of Kingsley to give the heads up,'_ Ginny thought bitterly. When she had awoken that morning to gruff voices in the kitchen, she had only needed to overhear half of what was said to piece it together. The Wizengamot was undecided. Malfoy would be some semblance of free come teatime.

Her stomach rolled inside of her and she lay on the cold wooden floor, her ear to the crack of the door. A pang of _missing_ hitting her full-force as she remembered the invention of the Extendable Ears, and George's own missing ear, leading to an organic thought that Fred would help her listen in surely, except he couldn't because Fred was dead. 

It was likely she hadn’t been invited down to hear the news because no one knew how she would react. Her testimony had not only shocked the court but her family as well, particularly her father. She had long ago figured out the Diary was given to her not arbitrarily, but as a bit of family pettiness. It had been an act against her father, and she was certain Arthur felt regret over the situation and how serious it could have all turned out. She had been a child then, but an observant one. Ginny thought more about her time with the Heir of Slytherin than she was willing to readily admit.

The thought of a Death Eater, any Death Eater, getting off without prison time seemed ridiculous, but Draco Malfoy had already been granted reprieve, proving it wasn’t out of the question. She was disappointed that the whole family would get a pass on any substantial punishment. The Malfoys would be asked to make large donations to reparations teams, but there was no satisfying rightness in buying one's freedom.

Ginny showered quickly and dressed in her funeral dress robes, all black with a large hood, and hurried to the Ministry to make sure she was where she needed to be when the verdict was read.

 

The elevator stopped shortly not two floors from the lobby, and as the gate opened, Draco felt a chill in the air mount. Ginny Weasley boarded the elevator car, cloaked in all black. Up close she was pretty, thin and athletic, with a sprinkle of childish freckles and the enchanting scent of basil. Her ginger hair was pin straight, long, and tied at the base of her neck in a loose ponytail that snaked out from the hood of her cloak. It made her whole face look severe and serious. She had appeared the same way before court not a week prior, but the hood was a chilling addition. 

Until she spoke, he wasn’t certain she even recognized him.

"I suppose congratulations are in order, regarding your father," she murmured, sliding the gate shut, reaching for a hand-strap just as the compartment lurched.

Not expecting her to talk, especially not so coldly, Draco was put off by the mood and wished hopelessly that he had gotten off the elevator car. He shifted uncomfortably.

As the lobby came into view, so did Ginny Weasley's wand. She had been a quick draw, even in school—he remembered that much about her—and as the charm spilled from her lips the gate opened to the grand lobby of the Ministry.

" _Imperio,_ " she whispered firmly, and immediately Draco felt his mind sink into warm, gooey, sated state, enveloped in safety but held submerged. He had been caught off guard by the enchantment and had little will to fight, so her requests—"Come along, Malfoy," and "To the exits"—seemed as natural as his own thoughts. 

His feet followed her dutifully, across the lobby floor, past the main fountains and towards the fireplaces of the long lobby corridor.

She stopped him when she arrived at a fireplace she arbitrarily seemed to like, pausing to straighten his robes. Draco, mind submerged, observed her demeanor and her words with careful attention. She seemed reluctant, unwilling to make eye contact. Whatever she planned to do to him under this curse was likely something she felt compelled to do. It seemed as though she was acting out of duty.

She guided them both into the fireplace and took his hand tightly as they Disapparated.

 

Draco came-to already bound spread-eagle to a sturdy wooden bed in a patchwork bedroom. The charm was gone, but it didn't help his will any. He could only tug against the magically-reinforced bindings and gurgle into the cloth that was shoved in his mouth as a gag.

It took a few panicked moments to notice he had been stripped naked, his entire body pale and soft in the harsh grey light of the day.

"Good, you're awake," the Weasley Girl grumbled, coming into the room with a cup of tea. She was still fully dressed, though she had shucked off her black cloak. Annoyingly, he was forced to notice how beautiful she still seemed, even like this even during this humiliation.

"Don't bother tugging the binds, you'll only give yourself an awful rope burn," she advised, putting down her cup of tea on the bedside table as she perched herself on the edge of the bed.

The futility of the situation sank into Draco's still-hazy mind as he watched her cross the room, as he tried his hardest to sort out her motives. Was she going to kill him? He wouldn't peg her for the type, but then again, she had just cast an Unforgivable Curse in the lobby of the Ministry itself.

"It's unfortunate that your father wasn't found guilty. I wouldn't have to do this if that were the case," Ginny reached behind her back and tugged at the zipper of her black dress. The fabric slid from her shoulders and she pulled it down at the hips. Draco unconsciously craned his neck to follow the dress's journey to the wooden floor, where it pooled at her feet.

She was just as fit and lovely outside of her clothes as she was in them. Her white lace lingerie was unimpressive, but something in Draco stirred when he realized that this might not end in his murder after all. Bur it left him no less confused.

She straddled one of his tightly bound legs and reached for his flaccid cock, stroking it without further explanation. Though Draco still regularly did that at least, it felt infinitely better to be someone else's hand. The shame of his impotence turned his cheeks and chest light pink—' _With blood that belongs elsewhere,_ ' he thought bitterly.

Her hand was soft, firm, and practiced in this skill. She stroked him for a few moments, until she realized this was going to get her nowhere. She rocked her hips, her slightly-damp panties rubbing against the muscle of his thigh, then returned to stroking, putting more effort into her expression. She bit her lip, gazed at him impishly, and eventually grew frustrated.

She reached for the gag. "No screaming," she made him promise, and at his nod removed the cloth.

Draco was so grateful to no longer feel choked that he simply licked his lips and tried to swallow the dry feeling from his mouth away. Before she could even begin a line of inquiry, Draco offered an explanation. "Can't since I got the Mark," he said sheepishly.

"Not at all?" she asked, so curiously and with such kindness that Draco almost forgot this was a sexual assault and this woman was not his friend or lover, but someone out to punish his family through him. He shook his head and blushed even deeper.

She seemed lost in thought for a moment before her hand returned to his cock again.

"What're you—?"

"Shut up," she murmured, her grip tightening on his soft cock, tugging with slower movement as her other hand dug nails into his thigh, scraping down the flesh and leaving paler-then-pink rakes.

He grunted in pain, rocking his hips to avoid the pain of both stimuli before she repeated the movement.

"You have never been told 'no'. No one in your family has. You have been raised to skirt the rules and to ignore directives and think that whatever you want is best," she said, a bit of her fury returning now. "I'm not taking no for an answer here," she spoke harshly.

Briefly, Draco felt his mind answer back to her, but he didn't repeat the thought out loud. _This isn't how this should go._ He had no romantic ideas about what his first time having sex would be like, not overtly, but her words gave him a sharp desire to rebel. He growled fiercely and arched his back, tugging with as much might as he could muster against the bindings. True to her word, they held firm.

Ginny tugged hard on his cock and amidst his cries of displeasure blood began to fill his limp prick. Not unusual, it was sustaining the erection that was the hard bit, but she kept going until he was more than half hard, laboring now under her own grip and balance.

"You are such a piece of fucking scum," she grit out, finally tearing her hand away. She produced a small rubbery ring and slid it over his cock, tucking his bollocks into the tight circle and giving a satisfied grunt as the job was done. She rose from his thigh, sliding off her panties and tossing them aside as she slid the gag into his mouth again. 

Without ceremony, likely because she didn't think it warranted it, Ginny scraped her nails down his chest and guided his bound cock inside of her, rocking her hips to seat herself fully. Draco's hips snapped of their own accord, burying himself the best he could in the warmest, wettest, most heavenly thing he'd ever known. Suddenly the urge to struggle left him. Instead, he felt the urge to come—an all at once a long-forgotten and incredibly familiar sensation. He grunted into the gag.

"Shut up," she told him again, gripping his chest as she began to move her hips.

Draco felt every move of her muscles, every soft squish of her pussy around his most precious part. He shut his eyes to fight the urge to cross them and turned his head to hide his blush the best he could. He bit down on the gag and tugged at the binding, but only to make more of his body feel numb. Even the weight of her body had a pleasant realness to it, sinking his center into the mattress just a bit further.

His cock swelled painfully in the ring she had placed on him, his erection growing stronger at the sensation. He grunted out in demand but she simply ignored the noise. 

He glanced up at her, just to observe. Her nails were digging into his chest hard enough to draw blood, her ponytail falling to the side as she lost herself in the rhythm she created. Her eyes were shut, her expression showing painful resignation. She kept her lower lip trapped between teeth as she let her body take what it needed most. She was flushed and beginning to sweat, but every so often her expression would soften into flickers of pleasure.

Her muscles began to tighten around him, each thrust relying more and more on gravity to fight the catch and release of his swelling prick. Draco found it difficult to keep a train of thought, most of his blood now tied off with the cock ring, edging him on explosion.

He could tell she was getting close to whatever she was racing towards. She began to make small whimpers, withdrawing her grip from his chest and reaching for her own body instead. She gripped her lace-encased breasts and rubbed at her clitoris in a frenzied pace. Her whimpers drove him to the brink of madness, each little sound both enchanted and frustrated him that he could not properly respond. As her muscles began to spasm and her legs twitched beside his body, she opened her eyes and spoke harshly, "You don't come."

She shouted wordlessly after that, rocking her hips and leaning back slightly as she rode out the sensation. Her muscles flitted around his cock and Draco found himself shutting his eyes tight to try and lessen the need. It had suddenly become all he cared for. 

As she whimpered and sighed and caught her breath, he tried to rock his hips, to find relief for his body. After a long moment, her muscles relaxed and she tugged the gag from his mouth again, replacing the cloth with three fingers and tugging on his jaw as she began to ride again.

This time her pace was frantic from the start, the same rhythm and tight muscles that made him feel invincible. His numb hands and feet longed to provide the touch and leverage needed to take control of this situation, but something about being bound was more erotic than he thought it would be. She was more vocal this time too, murmuring _Malfoy_ from time to time and muttering curse words that dissolved into nonsensical ramblings.

She opened her eyes to his, withdrawing her hand as she pressed her lips against his in their first kiss. Draco tried his best to reciprocate. 

"Please," he begged softly as the kiss broke, unsure of what he was begging for. 

Ginny gripped at his waist and tossed back her head, her hair brushing against the small of her back as she returned to rocking her hips. She reached down and murmured an incantation. The rubber ring loosened and Draco was unable to stop his thrusts upwards then, seeking relief again now that it was possible.

His swollen cockhead drove deeper than before and she cried out her pleasure at the motions. "Come," she finally ordered. "Fuck, now, come!" she demanded, scraping her nails down his raw chest yet again. 

Draco didn't need to be told twice. 

He resigned his efforts to resist and surrendered to the sensation, his hips rocketing off the mattress once again. His mind fell into silent blissful blankness as he released himself inside of her, collapsing back against the bed in sweat and exhaustion.  
Ginny didn't move from on top of him, but she released the binds after a long moment. Draco caught his breath and lingered on what had just happened, realizing the girl who had dragged him to her bed was even more in need of healing than he.

He had glimpsed her pain in the courtroom, but becoming her victim made it something he could not ignore.

He gripped her waist tentatively, and though his cock was softening, rolled her under him, thrusting inside of her once more, clumsily. He propped himself up with one hand while the other rubbed over her clit, mirroring her movements from earlier, circling the nerves in soft, small circles. She shivered and tried to claw against him, wordlessly whimpering her reluctance, but not telling him to stop.

He had softened completely so he withdrew, not wanting to make this, their final act, about anything less than her. Draco let his gaze meet hers, her deep hazel holding his own silver, even as her mouth sprang open for gasps of air. Defiantly, her gaze held, even as she began to mewl in pleasure, her back arching, her hands coming up to his shoulders in a weak attempt to shove him away.

‘ _Don’t make me feel this,_ ’ she silently pleaded, struggling stubbornly against his touch. To take this dark morning—her strike of vengeance—and accept it, to forgive her for it, was overwhelming.

“Please,” she begged in a soft whisper.

Draco felt his chest burn with the need to please her. He tucked her legs up beside him and redoubled his efforts to bring her off. “Come, Ginny,” he murmured. Her eyes shut at the sound of her first name. She dug her fingertips into his shoulders again and pressed her face against his, cheek to cheek, as she clung to him and let herself fall over the crest.

He slowed his motions as her spasming began to subside, withdrawing his hand from her quim hesitantly. He reluctantly rolled aside to give her room to catch her breath, laying beside her, but not leaving the bed.

 

"Do I need to Obliviate you?" she finally asked, licking her lips with a quick dart of a pink tongue. She turned her face towards him before opening her eyes. 

"Do I?" he asked her. 

She shook her head, so he mirrored the gesture.

 _'Nothing has been the same since the war,_ ' he thought.


End file.
